


Jealousy Never Felt Like This

by zaynscheekbones



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Canon, M/M, lots of pining where seunghyun doesn't realise he's pining, obviously, practically a historical document
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9546848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaynscheekbones/pseuds/zaynscheekbones
Summary: Seunghyun doesn't like Jiyong's new friends.





	

 

 

He’s not sure when three became two or when two then became +82. Not sure when Jiyong and Xin started meeting without him, not sure either how Chaerin got an invite to the club before him (Xin used to play naked in his paddling pool, for fucks sake).

 

And he’s _definitely_ not sure when it started bothering him so much.

 

There’s a large gap in his memory, from a time when he could barely wake up in the morning.  Three months of lying face down in his pillow in a dark room. Two texts from Jiyong asking him to come out to a club. One panic attack when he finally surfaces only to find that things are a lot different now.

 

He figures it probably started around then.

 

 

 

 

 

 _Plus 82._ The name puzzles him for a long time, but he’s not inclined to ask Jiyong what it means. Somewhere he remembers hearing Chae saying 82 was a ‘ _deficient number’._ But Seunghyun doesn’t know what that means either (and he doubts any of them do).

 

 

 

 

 

It feels like he never really woke up, watching a new crowd of people fill the spaces in Jiyong’s life that he would’ve originally taken up. He had a girlfriend a few years ago, and seeing her slowly replace him didn’t hurt half this much.

 

For a long time he couldn’t work out why he was feeling like this. It’s like an ache, deep down inside his body, and the realisation that this was the cause hit him like a truck. He tries to rationalise it, tell himself that it’s only natural to feel like this. They were _GD &TOP, _and before that they were Jiyong and Seunghyun. It was always the two of them.

 

But the truth is that it just hurts. There’s no deeper reason that he can find, no Freudian explanation to put his mind at rest. It just _hurts._ If his emotions were laid out on a scatter graph they would form one long line. A positive correlation with the time Jiyong spends away from him.   

 

And it baffles him.

 

As much as he tries to ignore it, self pity slowly builds into a resentment,  manifested against Jiyong’s new friends and the unsuspecting man himself.

 

He’s never been very good at keeping his heart inside his sleeve, and all it takes is three bottles of soju and Jiyong is asking him why he doesn’t like his friends. One stubby finger with chipped nail polish points in his face and two bony legs rest on Seunghyun’s lap in the back of the club. The question is accompanied with a heavy sigh; Jiyong must have been thinking of this for a long time.  

 

He almost chokes on his own bottle of soju; having always thought he was hard to read (time and again, though, the people closest to him prove he’s an open book). There’s a long pause (lengthened by the alcohol in his veins) as the cogs in his brain kick into motion. He could deny it, but he doesn’t want to.

 

 _“_ You’re not you when you’re with them.” He says, with a heavy sigh. Alcohol slows his tongue, but also his inhibitions.

 

Jiyong just brushes it off with a smile.

 

“There can be more than one me.” He says, as if he’s solved the problem.

 

 _But I don’t like this you,_ Seunghyun has to bite his tongue to keep from saying. Luckily the music is the club is loud, or else Jiyong might just be able to hear his thoughts.

 

 

 

 

 

There are a lot of reasons not to like this Jiyong.

 

He tries too hard.

 

He’s too loud.

 

Too pretentious. 

 

The other Jiyong is the one he’s known since he was ten years old. This is the one who used to call him Oppa on his cyworld account, would give him the left ear bud so they could listen to Biggie together on their way home from school.

 

He likes this one.  

 

But this one became more sporadic, more intermittent, as they grew up. As the world started to get harsher and his name became synonymous with hate.

Seunghyun can never pretend to understand how it was for Jiyong. But he does understand what it is to reinvent yourself.

 

He just wishes he could have done it with different people, is all.

 

Not these people, who are so clearly out for blood, using Jiyong’s name to advance their own shitty projects.

 

One day he snaps, tells Jiyong this. It comes after listening to him and Xin talk about something he’s not involved in for the majority of their dinner, whilst he picks crumb after crumb off the table.

 

“They’re just using you.” He says, more sharply than he intended (he didn’t really intend to say anything at all). Two pairs of wide eyes stare back at him, nothing but surprise written in them.

 

Jiyong doesn’t mention his other friends in front of Seunghyun, after that.

 

He keeps them all separate, and maybe years ago Seunghyun would feel bad for making Jiyong go to this trouble. But he knows none of the others like them, not even Seungri, who seems determined to make a habit of placing too much trust in opportunistic businessmen. Gradually word reaches Jiyong’s friends that he doesn’t like them (he blames Xin, the little fucker could never keep his mouth shut), but they tiptoe around the issue, remain cordial but cold whenever they are forced together.

 

Still, though, he finds it becomes harder and harder to cling onto Jiyong. Sometimes it’s as if he’s gripping onto the cracks in their friendship, nails scraping against its foundations.

 

He plays Jiyong’s game, makes new friends of his own. Finds himself drifting away from music and into the arms of another profession, into a new friendship group that doesn’t act like they’re God’s gift to creativity itself.

 

Tries his hardest to ignore the tightening in his chest whenever he sees Jiyong hanging out without him.

 

 

 

 

 

The _MADE_ project, YG calls it fresh. He thinks it reeks of +82.

 

But he’s trying to look more on the positive side now.

 

Besides, it’s nice with the five of them working together again. He gets annoyed about Jiyong changing but the truth is that they’ve all changed. Fissures have developed in their relationship that weren’t there when they debuted, underlying tensions that none of them seem to want to step on.

 

Paradoxically, they’re also closer than they’ve ever been before. Maybe not in the usual sense; he doesn’t know what half of them are up to the majority of the time. But he knows they’re always there, will always be there.

 

It’s comforting, not on the same level as a hug from his mum, but give them another ten years together and it might get close. And he feels it stronger than ever when they’re trapped in the studio, when the cracks melt away and he’s surrounded by the four people who know him better than anyone else in the world.

 

They’re drunk a lot of the time, whether it’s from alcohol or music he doesn’t know. The feeling that they’re creating something _great_ is a bigger buzz than anything he’s had in a while.

 

His Jiyong is back, with gummy smiles and awkward jokes. He’d be embarrassed about how happy this makes him if he weren’t so bloody happy.

 

He almost thinks that if he can keep Jiyong here for long enough he’ll never want to go back.

 

 

 

 

 

Better than new friends, he realises, is _art._ Soon his villa is is draped in fine art, every inch of the walls a masterpiece. This is an inverse correlation.  As his art collection grows, the paranoia, the irrational thoughts that surface at 2am start to slow down, fade into a small whisper.

 

“You’ve changed.” Jiyong says with a small smile. For the first time in a long while it’s just the two of them. The air smells sweet from Jiyong’s vaporiser, who came out to join him on the balcony even though he’s trying to quit.

 

Seunghyun searches his face for clarification.

 

“You don’t seem to need me anymore.”

 

With Jiyong’s small voice, with the traces of uncertainty and sadness hidden in it, he feels his resolve come crumbling down.

 

That’s all it takes for +82 to start irritating him again. And he sees them _everywhere._ Jiyong stopped inviting him to party with them long ago, getting tired of the rejection every time, but that doesn’t stop them cropping up uninvited (by him, at least).

 

His Instagram feed is full of them. With Xin, Chaerin, and both of Jiyong’s accounts. Often he finds his thumb moving towards the unfollow button, and presses it without hesitation.

 

He doesn’t get as much satisfaction from it as he would like, though.

 

On one rare night it’s just him and Youngbae in the studio. Two dark circles have taken home under his eyes and there’s four weary strands of hair reaching down to them.

 

 _When did they all start looking this tired,_ he wonders.

 

“Have I been spending too much time with Hyo Rin?” Youngbae asks, breaking him from his thoughts. Even in the dimly lit room the worry is clear in his eyes as he chews his bottom lip. “I feel a bit distant from you guys. Not so much Seungri or Dae, but…”

 

The thought of a heart to heart almost makes bile rise up in his stomach. But they’re trapped in the studio for the next few hours, so he might as well get it out of the way now.

 

“It’s not you, Bae. I’ve just…” And then he’s lost for words, offering the other man an apologetic smile instead. It seems enough to placate Youngbae though, who flops down into the chair next to him.

 

“I don’t really know what’s going on with Ji at the moment, either.”

 

“Busy with his other friends, I guess.” He says without thinking. The bitterness in his voice takes him by surprise, but if Youngbae hears it he makes no indication.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s at the launch party for Muse when his cold war with Jiyong’s friends finally comes to a head. Chaerin is wasted, with a mind set on peace-making. As far as Seunghyun was concerned, everything was pretty peaceful already. But the two of them clearly have different view points, and she comes stumbling over, two of Jiyong’s friends behind her. Two glasses of wine sway in her hands and there’s a single stray eyelash on her cheek; a sign that things are about to get messy.

 

He doesn’t remember much about that night, but he does remember a heated conversation. And he certainly remembers the tears pricking at Chaerin’s eyes as he walks away, out of the club and into a car that might not have even been for him.

 

A pounding headache greets him when he opens his eyes the next morning, sprawled on his bed with his clothes from the night before still in tact. A single message comes up on his phone when he unlocks it, received at 4am when he was fast asleep.

 

Jiyong: what the hell is your problem?

 

Although he’s pretty sure it’s scientifically impossible, he’s also pretty sure that his heart has just dropped into his stomach. He tries to clear his mind with a cold shower, tries to remember what he could have possibly said last night.

 

But he’s always had a very selective memory.

 

 

 

 

 

The air between them is frosty for the rest of the month, and the other three have to work extra hard in promotions to cover it up. He apologises to Chae for whatever he did, who likely doesn’t even remember the night either. But when it comes to Jiyong his pride gets the better of him. He walks into the studio like a wounded dog, but all intentions to apologise are thrown out the window as soon as he hears a member of Jiyong’s crew on the other side of the phone.

 

Involuntarily his lips purse, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jiyong, who swivels around in his chair to talk to Teddy instead. And _that’s it, that’s over_ , he thinks.

 

Tries not to dwell on the hurt that flashed in Jiyong’s eyes.

 

The ache in his chest has become his constant companion, now. So persistent that he even goes to the doctor, only to be told that he’s looking perfectly healthy.

 

He suggests a stress ball instead. 

 

 

 

 

He realises he’s in love on a Monday.

 

It comes after an MC asks who Jiyong’s muse was, and Seunghyun thinks that his chest might just about collapse if Jiyong were to say any name but his. Luckily the other man laughs the question off, and Seunghyun is grateful the camera is panned away from him because he  can barely crack a smile.

 

Peaceminusone comes out the following Wednesday. A black box comes hand delivered to him, with the white logo printed on the side. He doesn’t even open it, tosses it onto his sofa. On second thoughts he goes back, picks up the box and slides it underneath his bed.

 

The stress ball doesn’t help.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s surprised he never realised it sooner. Now when he looks in the mirror he can see it written all over his face, and he wonders if it had always been there.

 

 _Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery._ But he doesn’t know what the rest of the steps are, or even what recovery means when he gets there.

 

He runs on autopilot for the next week, too stunned to even think about what this might mean for the future. Sometimes he even tries to talk himself out of it, tell him that it’s just pure, kindergarten jealousy that his best friend has made new friends.

 

But jealousy never felt like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 _Everyone_ starts wearing Jiyong’s fashion brand. Every where he looks in the YG building he’s affronted with bulldog clips and white peace signs. It seems a little like the universe is mocking him, since his life feels anything but peaceful right now.

 

It’s as if hurricane has swept up his thoughts. Everything from Jiyong’s laugh to the impracticalities of being a famous man in love with a famous man in Korean society and then straight back to Jiyong’s laugh, all in the space of a few seconds. 

 

Their second album _Art_ comes out, and Seunghyun decides he no longer likes art any more.  Because with art comes Jiyong, and with Jiyong comes the familiar ache in his chest. Even if they’re in the same room as each other.

 

That’s what love might be, he thinks. 

 

 

 

 

 

Changing rooms become impossible. What had once been his best friend getting undressed now brings a blush to his cheeks. He feels guilty even being in the same room as Jiyong, and firmly chooses _flight_ over fight.

 

He pulls away. And he’s very successful for about a month, managing to maintain a decent distance between the two of them.

 

Eventually all good things must come to an end, though, as YG brings the two of them together in his office. There is only one sofa in his office at the moment, the other one being out for repair, so they’re forced to sit together. Four pairs of legs all remain rigid, neither of them willing to relax around the other.

 

Seunghyun swallows hard, folding his hands in his laps. YG’s expression says _you’re about to get scolded,_ and he’s too uncomfortable to even look at Jiyong.

 

The words that come out of his CEO’s mouth are a complete surprise.

 

“We’re bringing back GD&TOP.”

 

The silence is stifling.

 

“You’re not happy about this? Everyone’s been begging for your sub unit to come back.” The older man asks, a look of incredulity spread over his face.

 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea at the moment.” Jiyong answers after a brief pause. Five fingers rub at the back of his neck.

 

YG raises one eyebrow, but if he wants to probe any further he doesn’t.

 

“Well I am sure. So start working on a single and we’ll put it in the album.”

 

 

 

 

 

The air in the studio is just as stale as YG’s office, with an atmosphere so tight that Teddy has to excuse himself, muttering a “ _yikes”_ as he goes.

 

They’re at a stalemate; no one wants to be the first to speak. Loaded guns in their hands but neither wants to be the first to shoot.

 

When Teddy comes back in they still haven’t spoken, instead their jaws are square and their gazes are pointed at anything but each other. Realising this wont sort itself out, Teddy speaks up.

 

“I don’t know whatever happened with you guys but either put it aside or talk it out. I’m going for a fag.”

 

Jiyong stands up as if to join him, but Teddy uses a hand on his chest to push him back down into his seat.

 

_“Talk.”_

 

Once the door swings behind Teddy, Jiyong lets out a sigh that echoes around the room.

 

“We don’t really need to talk about this, do we? Forgive and forget.” He says, angling his legs towards Seunghyun.

 

“Mhm.” Seunghyun mumbles in response. He feels heavy with the weight of all the other things he wants to say.

 

He wants to say _I love you._ He wants to say that even though he’s an idiot, and that he might not even understand what love is, he is 100%, unequivocally, with out a doubt in love with his best friend.

 

None of that comes out, though. And even though Jiyong is within touching distance of him, he’s never felt further away.

 

 

 

 

 

 _Zutter_ is so them. It’s weird and abstract and for a few months has people questioning their sanity. During promotions they put on a united front, one that almost begins to extend to backstage until Jiyong wanders off to his next creative project.

 

He shouldn’t feel bitter; after all their position in society is in part down to Jiyong’s hustle and creativity. But every time he watches the other man drive away in his Lamborghini he feels angry on behalf of the other Jiyong, _his_ Jiyong.

 

Which is ridiculous.

 

 

 

 

 

When he finally reaches a tipping point, ready to tear his hair out or dig himself an early grave, he turns to the only person he can trust.

 

His sister.

 

The hysterical laughing that greets him down the phone after he’s told her his sorry tale doesn’t come as a surprise, but he didn’t feel like being looked at like a spawn of the devil by Youngbae or Daesung, and certainly didn’t feel like having his private affairs spread around Gangnam by Seungri.

 

Didn’t feel like giving his mum a heart attack, either.

 

“This isn’t funny.” He says sharply.

 

“How so?” His sister asks

 

“It’s like I can’t breathe.” Flopping down onto his bed, he sighs heavily. “I can’t stand to be around him but I cant bear to be without him either.”

 

“I’m dying. I’m definitely dying.” He says after no response from Hyeyoon.

 

“Get over yourself and tell him. It’s 2016 for Christ’s sake, not the 17th century.” She says. It’s her turn to be blunt, now.  

 

This isn’t what he wanted to hear.

 

 

 

 

He’s surprised he hasn’t driven tracks into his hardwood flooring with all the pacing he’s been doing. Going round and round in his villa, with his thoughts going in just as much of a circle.

 

_Jiyong, I love you –_

Nope, to straight forward.

_Jiyong, I’m_ in _love with you –_

Too cliché.

_Ji, I think I  love you –_

Think?!

 

 _Ji, I_ know _I love you -_

Nope.

 

_I can’t stop thinking about you –_

He’s going mad.

 

 

 

 

 

In the end he settles on winging it; a strategy that helped him through most of his exams in high school (he didn’t necessarily get the best grades, but that’s water under the bridge).

First he has to track down Jiyong, though. Which is no mean feat because that boy knows how to disappear when he wants to. Eventually he swallows his pride, asking his sister, who asks Dami, who then asks Jiyong, and waits (im)patiently for the information to be relayed back to him.

 

His leg bounces uncontrollably as he clutches his phone in his lap, his head still mapping out things to say.

 

Hyeyoon: Cakeshop.

 

Is all the text says when it finally comes through.

 

He knows what that means, who that means Jiyong is there with. But if he doesn’t do it now he’ll never do it, he thinks.

 

 

 

 

Two shots of soju and he’s out of the door, into a car from the company. The driver is pissed at the short notice, but the adrenaline in Seunghyun’s body doesn’t care. Thumping music enters the car as they roll into Itaewon, and he realises he’s going to need more than two shots if he’s going to make it through the night.

 

Before heading to the bar though, he still has to locate Jiyong within the throng of people. Luckily he manages to spot Chae, who looks up at him like a deer caught in headlights.

 

“Seunghyun?” He hears her shout, but he doesn’t have time for explanations and instead of stopping winds his body around people to where Jiyong is dancing.

 

He never truly appreciated the way Jiyong’s body moved until now, and maybe it’s just the alcohol talking but he wants that body _on top of him._

 

But before that can happen, he has business to attend to.

 

 

 

 

 

In hindsight, grabbing Jiyong from behind wasn’t the best move. Especially not when several of YG’s security staff descend on him, with threatening faces and bulky muscles. They retreat once they recognise him, and he’s left with Jiyong and an expression that can only be described as _what the fuck are you doing here?_

Now he’s here, in front of the very man he’s been trying to avoid for the past few months, he’s clammed up. There are a million things he wants to say, but also a billion nightmare scenarios he can imagine afterwards.

 

People move around them, completely oblivious to how pivotal of a moment this is in his life and how it may just determine the future of his entire happiness.

 

The thought makes him freeze.

 

Jiyong snaps his fingers in front of his face, two eyebrows raised in expectation.

 

“What are you doing here? Is this a mental breakdown?”

 

Seunghyun gets where he’s coming from, with his hair in tufts of frustration and under eye bags that speak of many sleepless nights.

 

“What are you doing here?” He repeats, after Seunghyun fails to answer. Barely five minutes in the club and sweat is already beading at his forehead.

 

He sees orange as Jiyong turns to leave him, fluffy strands of hair bouncing about his head. It’s as if his whole life flashes before Seunghyun’s eyes. He darts out a hand, gripping onto Jiyong’s wrist. They both stare at the point that their flesh meets, both as surprised as each other.

 

“I’m in love with you.” Seunghyun blurts out.

 

“Huh?” Jiyong shouts. He didn’t hear Seunghyun.

 

Inadvertently he offers Seunghyun the coward’s way out, who it takes it and runs.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” He says, and now it’s his turn to leave. Jiyong’s turn to grab his wrist, with eyes that look more desperate than anything Seunghyun has ever seen. But he shakes his head at Jiyong.

 

“I’m going.” He says, hoarsely.

 

The ache in his chest starts to build into a crescendo as he disappears into the crowd as fast as possible. He can barely put one foot in front of the other, and it’s not because of the tequila.

 

 _This is what dying feels like,_ he thinks.

 

 

 

 

 

Jiyong: we need to talk, clearly.

 

Jiyong: don’t ignore me, you dickhead.

 

Jiyong: I heard what you said at the club, lets talk.

 

Jiyong: we’re off to Hong Kong on Wednesday, you have to talk to me then whether you like it or not.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He leaves them all unread. He’ll cross that bridge later, he figures.

 

For now he’s happy trying to drown himself in the shower.

 

 

 

 

 

He likes airports; everyone’s going somewhere, everyone’s excited.   

 

But right now he wishes he could go anywhere but here.

 

He manages to stall for as long as possible, until Soonho is threatening to castrate him if he doesn’t get to the lounge soon.

 

His heart thumps erratically, three beats to every step he takes and his palms clam up like never before. _It’s just your best friend,_ he tries to tell himself.

 

Doesn’t work, though.

 

Because it’s not just his best friend any more.

 

He barely gets a glimpse of the other three as Jiyong drags him into the toilets, tiny hands forming fists around Seunghyun’s shirt.

 

“Do you really love me?” He asks, once they’re safely away from prying ears. His voice is strained, choked.

 

“I-“

 

Seunghyun falters.

 

The look in Jiyong’s face is enough to make him carry on, though.

 

“Yeah, at least I think so anyway. I mean…I know so. At least, whatever love is…I feel that for you.” Is what comes out in the end. It’s far from perfect, and he shuts his eyes. Braces himself for rejection.  

 

“Took you a while to realise.” After several heartbeats Jiyong says, instead. A soft hand is on his jawline and another on his waist. It’s the first time he’s been touched like this by a man, and his heart starts racing again.

 

“What are you doing?” He whispers. This was not how he expected their conversation to go.

 

“What do you think I’m doing, you idiot. I’m kissing you.”

 

Seunghyun pulls back from Jiyong slowly.

 

“You like me like that?”

 

Jiyong sighs, his chest vibrating against Seunghyun’s.

 

“Sadly, yes. I like you a lot.”

 

He lets Jiyong guide them, feeling the weight of the other man’s lips against his own. Fingers tighten at his waist, and somewhere in the back of his mind he acknowledges that Jiyong is standing on his tiptoes for this. A small smile spreads across his face.  

 

If airport security weren’t so tight, he wouldn’t be surprised if fireworks went off next to them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

One becomes two and then +82 becomes +83. His carefully decorated house becomes cluttered with cat hair and music sheets, but he doesn’t mind because for the first month they rarely leave the bedroom.

 

He thinks back sometimes to what Jiyong said, about there being multiple versions of himself, and decides he doesn’t really mind the other Jiyongs that much. Not when he knows that the younger man will always come back to him in the end.

 

Neither of them are perfect for each other, hell neither of them are perfect full stop. But even when they can’t live with each other, they can’t live without each other.

 

“You’ve got me trapped.” Jiyong says one night. There's a brief pause. “I don’t mind one bit.”  

**Author's Note:**

> idk either


End file.
